A Game of Dress-Up

Vanessa stared at him in shock. She had totally forgotten this was Monday, and that Mr. Taylor brought over his receipts every Monday night for Vanessa to enter in his books. That was her job and what he paid her for. And now here she was dressed like an absolute whore, smoking and drinking in her mother’s kitchen.

He stared at her and she stared back, horrified.

He looked at her. He looked at the bottle of whiskey. He looked at the cigarette. "Vanessa? God, what’s going on here?"

"Oh my gosh! Mr. Taylor! I’m so sorry. I forgot you were coming!"

He stepped into the room, the look in his eyes changing gradually from shock to lusty appreciation as he took her all in, the shoes, the stockings, the obscenely tight dress, the makeup. Vanessa looked frantically around the familiar kitchen, as if she could find a good place to hide.

"What is this, Vanessa?" he asked her. "You going out? Getting all dressed up to go out, huh? Your mother know what you were planning tonight? You look like a regular little tramp, honey, you know that?"

"No, I was just trying on some clothes… I…"

He stepped closer and picked up the bottle of whiskey. "Drinking too, huh? Does your mother know you smoke!"

"No, really, I was just fooling around," she said hurriedly, "Here, let me take the books…"

"No, no, that's okay." He pulled them back as Vanessa reached for them, almost stumbling in her heels. "I’ll put them on the desk in the other room"

He walked past her and into the den. Vanessa quickly threw the whiskey down the sink and ran water over the incriminating cigarette, then threw it in the trash. She stood nervously by the sink as he came back in and stood in the doorway. She couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Rob Taylor was an family friend who’d been wonderfully helpful after Vanessa’s father had died. He’d taken Vanessa under his wing and let her keep the books fro the salon he owned downtown, which allowed her to work whatever hours her school schedule allowed. Her mother had often said what a godsend he’d been. He’d always been kind to Vanessa, but rather aloof. He wasn’t aloof now.

"So look at you," he said, leaning against the door jam. He smiled slowly. "Just look at you."

She didn't know what else to say so she tried to smile, waiting for him to leave. She was mortified, and she really didn’t want to try and explain herself any further, which would only make things worse. She just wanted him to walk out the door so she could run to her room, get out of those clothes, and shove everything back under her bed and pull the covers up over her head.

But he seemed to like what he was seeing. He stepped forward and took her wrist, holding her at arms’ length while he continued to admire her. "I didn't even know you had a boyfriend." he said, looking her up and down, "Who's the lucky guy?"

"No, really, Mr. Taylor." she said. "There isn’t any boyfriend."

"So you're just going out alone like that? You look hotter than hell dressed like that. I never would have guessed it Vanessa, a good little girl like you.” For a moment he looked slightly disapproving, as though his parental instinct had kicked in and he thought she should be sent to her room. That look quickly gave way to his previous lecherous stare, and it was clear he didn’t want to send her away. “You look like a regular little tramp, you know that? Some hot little piece of tail."

"Oh God, no, I would never let anyone see me like this. No…" she said again, and she twisted her body around in an attempt to get her arm away from him. The snaps on the dress were down far enough to give him a generous shot of her cleavage which was only enhanced by her twisting and straining, and she could see her own flesh tremble as she fought for her arm.

"But you dress the part," he said, "Does that mean you can play it too? Are you really that hot, Vanessa? Can you back up what the clothes say?"

"Please…"

"Please what, you little tramp? Please what?"

His voice had gotten deeper now, and Vanessa knew something was going to happen that was beyond her control. He grabbed her other wrist and pushed her back, knocking her against the refrigerator, scattering papers and little alphabet magnets to the floor He pressed her hands up and back, holding them over her head and leaning his body against hers. He was strong and the hardness of his body against her was unaccountably exciting.

"Mr. Taylor, don't do this." she begged. She tried to remain in control of herself, to calm her breathing and slow her heart, but the body against her was not willing to let her relax.

"Don't do what? You think I'm going to let you go out and walk the streets looking like that? You little tramp, your mama will thank me for keeping you in! Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in? You little whore! How long has this been going on?"

"Really, I was just dressing up. Just trying on clothes…"

"Oh sure." he said. "With that makeup and those stockings and heels. And who tries on a vinyl dress like that? Where do you wear that? To class? Don't bullshit me, Vanessa. There’s only one reason a girl gets dressed up like that, and that’s to go whoring. You're going out looking for it, aren't you? You wait till your mom's away and that you get all dressed up and go out and find yourself some nice hard cock, don't you, sweetie? Well you know what?” he sneered, “There’s no need to go out looking for it."

Vanessa tried one last time to escape, but Mr. Taylor was just too strong. He took both of her wrists in one hand and pressed her against the fridge with his body. He used his other hand to slowly draw a finger down her body from her throat to where the last snap strained to keep her dress in place. Then he reached up under the dress and his fingers touched her naked thighs.

“You’ve grown up,” Mr. Taylor said. “I never even noticed. Can you imagine that? You’re a beautiful girl, Vanessa. You should be glad I found you before some other creep got a hold of you.”

"Oh God!" she said in horror, but to Mr. Taylor it sounded like the first sign of arousal, and he pressed himself tighter against her. She closed her eyes and willed the earth to swallow her and her shame, but her visitor was still there when she opened them again.

Vanessa was trembling with fear and humiliation, still on a high level of excitement from her game of dress up, and his body felt wonderful against hers, despite her horror. It was just what she wanted to feel, his hardness against her, his strength holding her. She was torn, part of her dying to see her fantasies realized, and part of her ashamed that she would ever let a man take advantage of her like this.

"Come on, Vanessa!" he whispered to her face, "Let's see if you're as hot as you think you are. Let's see just what you've got."

His fingers touched her pussy through her panties and she gasped. Her knees went weak. "Mr. Taylor, please! It was just a game!"

"Jesus Christ!" he swore softly, his forehead almost touching hers. "You're soaking wet! I can feel you through your panties! What the hell have you been doing to yourself?"

"No, no!" she said, but now it was more like a whine. All the force was gone from her voice, all the resistance was fading from her body. She turned her head to the side so he wouldn't see the shame and desire in her face, but his fingers slid through the leg band of her pantries and touched her naked sex, and a thrill coursed through her like an electric shock, washing all her embarrassment away. Her body didn't want him to stop, and her hips thrust themselves against his hand with a mind of their own as she pressed her cunt against his seeking fingers.

"You are one hot little piece, Vanessa. All wet and ready to go!"

His lips were right next to her now, and when he kissed her she couldn't escape; she just whimpered into his mouth. He broke away and looked down at her breasts, pushed up and out by the position of her arms above her head, and she saw the hungry gleam in his eye. The thought that her body turned him on so much gave her a strange, fierce thrill, and when his lips came down on hers again, she surrendered to his demanding kiss and opened her mouth to let him in.